


When We Were Siamese

by EvelynsGrave



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Drama, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Before Leon became an agent, But there is some smut, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Masturbation, Missing Scene, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Resident Evil Code: Veronica, Seriously its so angsty, Shameless Smut, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 22:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18838333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvelynsGrave/pseuds/EvelynsGrave
Summary: He’ll keep swathing himself in infinite layers of secrecy, disillusionment and disconnect. She’s just gonna have to keep peeling them off one by one, stripping him to vulnerability, to see if he’s still there underneath it all.





	When We Were Siamese

**Author's Note:**

> Here I go again with this pairing~  
> There’s stuff mentioned in this fic that happened in another Cleon fic of mine, but it’s not necessarily a companion fic. Basically it’s just Claire and Leon doing the deed once and having lots of unresolved tension until she left to look for Chris.  
> Also, if you make it near the end of the story, I’m describing Leon in his Noir outfit.  
> This work is non-beta’d and I’m not a native English speaker, sorry for any mistakes.

“First time here?”

The cab driver asked, breaking Claire’s daydreaming as she looked out the car window. 

“Nah. Been here twice this year.” 

“Ahh.” He replied, realizing that she wasn’t in a chatty mood. 

Her third time to visit Leon. Something was special about it. This time, she didn’t invite herself. He actually asked her to come over, which was strange, and worried her for good reason. 

_You guys dating?_ A question her best friend had asked her once, a warranted one given that she had flown twice before just to spend time with him. _No, he’s just a friend,_ she had told her. _He’s my new best friend_ is what she really wanted to answer, but dared not to. 

It’s true. It’s amazing how being stuck in sure-death situations makes one feel so bonded to another. She had counted the actual time they’ve known each other. About 12 hours stuck in a viral apocalypse separately, and almost three months playing house before she ran off to plunge alone into another nightmare. It ended too abruptly, but felt like decades just the same. She felt such a connection to him already, almost like they’re joined at the hip.

That aside, it would be hard to forget a man who looked like he does, especially after sleeping with him once. At least from her perspective. 

The cab stopped in front of a high-rise building. 

“This is the address?” the driver asked. 

“This is it. Thank you,” she replied. 

She gave him a tip and refused his help with her luggage. 

**~**

_“They offered me to join USSTRATCOM.”_

_She looked at him, waiting for more explanation. They operate under the department of US defense and they wanted him to be part of the anti-bioterrorism force to be exact, he said._

_“I said yes.”_

_She felt conflicted but kept it to herself. On the one hand, she knew it was always his calling to help the weak and protect the innocent. He had said so himself. On the other, it was jumping back directly into the hell on earth that they had just escaped from— voluntarily this time._

_“I... just don’t see myself going back to the force after everything. It’s... I can’t do it,” he rationalized, eyes down. Her heart broke into a million pieces knowing that it had always been his dream as a child. There was nothing else in the world he wanted to do._

_She blamed herself. If only she hadn’t left to look for Chris, maybe things would’ve ended up differently. She would never have broken his heart, and Sherry wouldn’t have been pried from their fingers._

_He told her to stop. There was nothing they could have done for Sherry._

_She protested, but she knew—they both knew— that none of them were in the position to raise her._

_“We’ll figure something out,” she said. “I’ll find a way to reach out to her.”_

_He didn’t respond._

 

**~**

She grabbed the keys from the concierge and rode the elevator to his floor. 

The place was not luxurious but had a modern design. It was government issue, he said, and was temporary. 

Claire knew he was a very tidy person. The kind who would swipe their finger on a surface to check for dust or unroll their underwear before flinging it into the laundry bin. 

But she could never get used to the immaculate emptiness and orderliness of his place. 

The walls were painted a dull powder blue and white, and what little amount of furniture there was have been matched to the cold color scheme. She wondered if any of it was his personal choosing, as she realized that what she knew of his personal tastes was close to nothing. Back then, it was all thrift store clothing and living in cheap motels with tacky decor.

But even that was homelier and had more warmth. This new place was nice to look at— but it evoked such a feeling of loneliness. 

She left her luggage and shoes in the living room. 

He’s busy at work and hence wasn’t able to pick her up from the airport, but she walked around and checked all the rooms to make sure she was alone. 

_All clear,_ she sighed to herself. 

She went to his bedroom. 

She opened the door to the walk-in closet. All sorts of jackets and dress shirts and pants hung from the rods. Other pieces of clothing were impeccably folded on the shelves. She reached for the top shelf to feel for anything hidden away from her line of sight. 

Nothing. 

She walked out and closed the door behind her. She then went to kneel in front of the small dresser by his bed. She opened each drawer one by one, carefully lifting each stack of neatly folded clothes to check for anything underneath. 

Nothing. 

She shut the bottom drawer and sighed. _What am I doing,_ she scolded herself, shutting her eyes and resting her head against the dresser.

She was desperate to find out anything about this new job of his. About what’s going on with him lately. 

Her heart ached at the realization that she didn’t trust him enough anymore to tell her the entire truth. 

She thought she heard the jingle of keys right outside the door. Her heart skipped a beat, and she opened her eyes immediately. 

 

**~**

_The woman sat across her, arms laid on the table. She had a smile on her face but her eyes were inquisitive. She kept quiet the whole time, nodding occasionally._

_She was finishing her story on the events of Raccoon, making sure to emphasize how she was with Sherry the whole time in order to drive the point that she is someone whom the child trusts. She wasn’t exactly going for adoption claims— she didn’t want to appear overeager and would rather have them see that Sherry indeed trusted her first. At least that way for now, they could grant her to make visits._

_She wrapped up her story and the woman had a look on her face that told her she believed her— but there was something else in there that made her uncomfortable. The woman got up and thanked her. In a few days time they will give her their decision on whether she gets to see the child or not._

_“What for? Just let her see me and you’ll know I’m telling the truth,” she contested._

_“I don’t doubt that, Ms. Redfield,” the woman replied. “We just have to sort out a few things. We’ll keep in touch.”_

 

**~**

“Lee...?” she called out, checking the hallway, looking at the entrance. 

There was no one. He wasn’t there—yet— and she realized, getting caught going through his belongings would destroy what trust he has left for her. 

She gave out another defeated sigh. She walked to the bathroom to wash her face. She had been stressing out since she landed, since she had received his invitation in her email. She decided that she wanted to relax in the bathtub and turned the water on. 

She slid her underwear down to her feet and tossed it aside, stepping into the warm bath. She removed her ponytail, her hair cascading down to her shoulders.

The warm water helped relax the tense muscles of her shoulders and calmed the headache forming in her temples. She closed her eyes and embraced herself. 

It was hard not to think of him whenever she’s naked. 

It had become a habit of hers. She hasn’t decided yet if it was healthy or not. But right now she didn’t care— she’s so close to him, she’s right there in his bathtub, and she was going to see his beautiful face and hear his soft voice, and if he would let him, like that night in the motel when they gave in to their impulses, she would be able to touch his hair, caress his smooth skin, feel the hardness of his erection against her crotch and hear him beg and call out her name—

She reached down to touch herself, as she had always ended up doing when thoughts of that night plague her head.

Upon her return from reuniting with her brother, she had gone out with a few lovers, none of whom she had feelings for. It was her attempt to strive for normalcy, a feat that seemed impossible. They were but outlets for her desperation to be able to feel alive, a well-needed break from having too many encounters with death. 

None of them were able to quench her longing for him, not even close. 

The warm water felt good around her sensitive folds, and she rubbed harder, drawing out a long breath from her mouth.

But it really wasn’t leading to anything. The anticipation of seeing him again kept her focus away, even for something like this. 

How she wished that he would just come home and walk in on her in laying in that tub, naked and in heat. And then they’d finally have an excuse to act on their desires again instead of awkwardly avoiding it like they have done since. 

She withdrew her hand from her mound. She looked around and noticed the bath products in the tile cubby in the shower across the tub. 

_Kérastase Paris._

When they were living incognito on a budget, he had told her how it was the best hair product on earth while complaining about the cheap shampoo they have been using that had ‘disgraced’ his hair. “Oh Leon, you’re such a girl!” Sherry had said. 

She let out a smile. Who knew that a bottle of shampoo would be the only item in that whole damn place that reminded her of the Leon she knew.

 

**~**

_“She told me everything. How you guys were caught, and that you told her to keep me a secret.”_

_Tears were streaming down her face. He had a sad look on his face as he listened intently, imploring her to continue._

_“Thank you. And I’m sorry,” she could barely say the words. He wrapped his arms around her and she sobbed in his shirt._

_She then looked up at him. “Are you going to get in trouble with them? For lying about me?”_

_“I don’t know,” he paused, as if hesitating, “But I hope. If that only means I won’t get the job.”_

_“What do you mean? I thought you wanted this?”_

_He gave her a look as if he was trying not to cry, and softly shook his head. “I don’t,” he whispered. She felt his arms tighten around her._

_She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t understand.”_

_“It was the only way to keep her safe. I HAD to accept it.”_

_He buried his face in her neck, unable to hold back the tears._

 

**~**

He called his own apartment, already expecting her to be there to pick up. 

He was going to be late, he said, but he was going to take her out for dinner. He asked her to dress up as he was rather dressed formally. Something about a meeting with ‘someone important’ at work that morning. 

Had his home been a little warmer, or made her feel comfortable in the slightest, she would have gladly settled for to go’s that they could kill over the fancy liquor she’d seen in his cupboard. That was something similar to what they used to do. Eat empty calories and bond over shitty movies on the couch as Sherry feasted on her decent meal or slept early. 

Instead she found herself actually wanting to dress up and go out. 

She put on a red halter dress. Red was her color. It brought out the blue in her eyes and her milky complexion.

She checked herself out in the mirror, then realized in frustration that it was not something she would want to wear on a date with him. 

No, she’s not going to remind him of Ada Wong. 

She hastily removed the garment and tossed it on the floor.

Jealousy. That’s what she felt every time that cursed name would come up. She hated the way he berated himself for falling for her lies. Hated the way he blamed himself for not being able to save her. And while she knew herself not to be a horrible person who wished ill upon others, she thought maybe Ada deserved what she got— she was going to sell the virus that caused the deaths of thousands of people. 

She probably deserved it, she kept telling herself. And Leon, though kind-hearted as he is, was too dense to realize that what Ada didn’t deserve were those feelings from him. 

She was jealous, but her points are valid, she reassured herself. 

_Why couldn’t you just have ‘the talk’ with him?_ Another question from her best friend after she had deduced that he was something more to her. She wanted to tell her how trivial it seemed, but she’d never understand. In a world full of death, deceit and fear, with constant threat looming in the background, it seemed a silly thing to worry about labels, and there couldn’t have been a much worse time to jump into a relationship. 

That, and they have this one other more important thing to always argue about. 

 

**~**

_“This isn’t right. It’s not fair.”_

_Her blood was boiling. She didn’t care that they wanted to take down Umbrella— they were equally as evil if they would go so much as to threaten a child’s safety and coerce a traumatized human being into helping them fulfill that mission._

_He had a defeated look on his face and said nothing._

_She sat beside him and looked into his eyes with conviction. “There has to be another way.”_

_He let out a small laugh, which she found unbecoming. “What’s your suggestion?”_

_She shook her head in disbelief. “I... I don’t know yet.” She stood up. “This isn’t like you.”_

_She looked at him, waiting for a response. Again, he was quiet. She sighed loudly._

_“I’m sorry I don’t have anything to suggest either,” he finally said, looking away from her._

_And he really didn’t have to. All she needed to hear from him was that she’s right, this was wrong. She wanted to see him as she knew him, full of hope and ready to fight for what’s right. To give her hope that there’s a chance for things to be better._

_Where had that person gone to?_

 

**~**

He picked her up downstairs and she could barely look at him without melting. 

He wore a grey vest over a white dress shirt which sleeves he had rolled up to his elbows. He matched it with a dark red tie and grey slacks. His hair was slicked back which exposed his angelic eyes even more. It amazed her to realize how his hair alone completely redefined his whole appearance. 

He was gorgeous, and much to her relief, the look in his eyes told her that he was happy to see her. When they hugged each other, it seemed like all their problems have vanished into the void. 

He took her to a quiet bar with great food and even greater liquor. He knew her tastes well and she made a mental note to come back the next time she comes to visit. 

She shared with him stories from back home, about Chris, and how she had decided to drop out of her major in order to pursue something else related to a humanitarian cause. She had found her calling, she said, and that is to use her education to help prevent other people from going through the same horrors they have gone through. 

She told him about the times she spent with Sherry, and how she was indeed safe, earning a sigh of relief from him. 

But then at some point during the night, she realized that she had been doing all the talking. He sat across from her, listening intently, a genuine smile across his face from hearing all the good things coming her way, but offering nothing about himself and how he has been. 

Not a single information. 

She didn’t pry, knowing how sore the subject was, but deep inside of her, she knew she was near the boiling point. 

Because she missed him. She missed his stories and his cheesy humor. She missed his laughter. 

He was right there in front of her, but he was so far away. 

Suddenly everything she loved about the way he looked that night seemed to hammer the point that something in him had changed. She looked at the slicked back hair, the clothes he’s wearing. 

She felt like she was out with a different man. 

 

**~**

_“So they never did reprimand you for lying to them?”_

_“No.”_

_“You’d think they’d want someone they could trust.”_

_“I would think so too. But I guess other things matter more.”_

_“Do they even know that I come here to see you?”_

_“You bet they do. And to be frank with you, I’m not at all comfortable with you being here.”_

_“...”_

_“... It’s not that I don’t want you here, but I don’t want to wait for them to say something.”_

_“...but I thought anything that could get you kicked out is good.”_

_“We’ve been over this. There’s no getting out of this for me.”_

_“How do you know?”_

_“Because they said so. I told you this. Why are you so stubborn?”_

_It was then that she realized that they couldn’t talk about it anymore without ruining what they had together._

_A part of them died along with Raccoon City and when Sherry was taken away._

_But she was able to return home and have the chance to put the pieces back together. She had found her brother, she had her other best friend, and there was no one but herself making plans for her own future._

_Meanwhile, he was here, alone, whatever’s left of him dying in this cold, empty place._

 

**~**

They returned home to his apartment. She removed her shoes by the door and watched him turn on the lamp in the living room. He unbuttoned his vest and took it off, and she watched his form basked in the soft, yellow light.

She’s a Redfield. She’s never been the type to wait too long if something had to be brought up. So she snapped. 

“You’ve changed.”

He looked at her, as if making sure that he heard her right, as he loosened his neck tie. 

“You know exactly what I mean.”

They were going to have this argument if it’s the last argument they’ll ever have.

He gave her a look that told her he understood where it was going. 

She nodded in affirmation. “I want my best friend back.”

He threw his hands up in the air. “This again,” he said, almost whispering to himself, “I don’t know what you get from this.”

“Nothing. That’s the problem,” she snapped back. ”I wanted to hear from you that there’s another way. But instead— nothing. You’re resigned to this. You’re _embracing_ it.” She made sure that the last sentence conveyed her disdain. 

“The problem is that you don’t understand that neither of us can’t change shit no matter how many times you get angry about it,” his voice was louder now, and she almost felt glad over evoking a response. Because that’s the Leon she knew. He’s a kind optimist, but had conviction, and raised his voice if he needed to. 

And considering the amount of times they have argued on the matter, she deserved it.

She pressed on. “But you don’t want this!”

“What do you know about what I want?”

“You told me so! Or are you suddenly okay with reliving Raccoon all over?” she cried out.

“Jesus Christ. Fuck me sideways,” he rubbed both eyes with his hands. He turned his back to her and sighed, looking at the ceiling. “I shouldn’t have told you.” 

Her throat was stinging from holding back tears. “And I probably never should’ve come here.” She wasn’t going to cry in front of him. She already did that too many times. 

He turned his head back, giving her a forlorn look, then faced her entirely. “The reason I asked you to come,” his voice much calmer, “is because I’m being deployed to start training. This will be the last time either of us will be at this place.”

A different way of saying that her fear was finally going to become reality. 

“Can’t tell you where or for how long,” he continued, “but before it happens, I want to be with you.”

Fighting the tears was pointless, so she let go. Oddly, there was some relief to be had in the finality of it. 

He walked towards her and lifted her face with a hand, brushing his thumb against her wet cheek. He looked her in the eyes and said, “Remember when you promised you’ll be there for me, no matter what tomorrow brings?”

“That’s why I’m here,” she whispered and tried to move her face away. 

He moved it back with his hand on her chin so she faced him again. He then pressed his forehead to hers. “I need you to keep holding on to it. Let’s get through this. Both of us.”

And there he was again. The best friend she loves and lusts over, the twin they have been forcefully trying to separate from her. 

He’s back. 

 

**~**

Their first time was rushed and done in poor stealth. Moans were hushed. Movements restricted. The most prominent memories she had were the feeling of his firm kisses all over her neck and the mounds of her breasts, the breathy, subdued groans coming out of his mouth that he released on that spot right under her ear. Many a nights she tried to hold on to these fragments as she touched herself. 

That night they had all the time and privacy in the world. 

She wasn’t going to let it be in vain. Just like the last time, they’ve started out with hungry kisses, with the fencing of tongues and the removal of garments piece by piece. He already had his vest and necktie removed, and she was down to her underwear, so she moved herself to the edge of his bed and stopped him from removing more than that and repeating the same pattern. 

Instead, she asked, or rather _commanded_ him to stand in front of her and undress himself while she watched. 

The good boy that he still is inside, he stepped back a few times, far enough so she didn’t have to move her eyes for a full view. 

He unbuttoned his white shirt and threw it on the floor. 

There were moles on his collarbone, his chest, veins bulging in his forearms. Although a little more muscular than she had remembered, he had retained the same figure. Toned and slender. She waited patiently. 

He unbuckled the belt around his waist and pulled it out, dropping it on the floor. Unzipped his grey slacks, which dropped down to his ankles. 

He inserted a thumb under the waist band of his underwear, slid it across the front of his belly and stopped at his hip to pull it down. With the other hand he pulled down from the opposite side, and down to the floor it went. 

All the while he had kept eye contact with her, staring at her intently just as she stared at him. 

He’d never moved so confidently before.

He stood still and had a look on his face as if he was daring her to make a move. 

Insolence like that ought to be punished.

**~**

She rubbed the aching bud in between her folds and made him watch where he stood. 

He was hard. And suffering. He stroked himself but not before she gave him permission. Again, the good boy underneath knows to wait for instructions. 

She basked in the image of him pleasuring himself, imagining the times that he did so in that very place that they were at, that cold, empty place that she knew he had never called home, and if he was thinking of her as he did so.

When it became a little too unbearable, she invited him to come closer to the foot of his own bed, stripping herself bare, and told him to kiss, lick and suck wherever he wanted— as long as he kept his hands on her. He kissed her all over her neck and concentrated on that sensitive spot below her ear, sucking at her skin, making sure that he was going to leave a mark. He licked at her nipples, took her plump breasts in his mouth, showering them with attention. He brought one hand between her legs to check how slick she had gotten down there. She made it easier for him, spreading her thighs and planting her feet on the bed. 

He inserted a finger, pulled it out and put it in his mouth, looking up at her as he did so. He repeated it one more time before he whispered to her, “I always wondered how you taste like.”

Her heart soared in joy at the validation he had given. All those nights she ached for him, she didn’t suffer alone, as he was miles away, aching for her just the same. 

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He smiled as he bit his lower lip, looking up at her still. He kissed the top of her slit and moved downward, the soft movement of his lips ticking her wet folds. Up and down, up and down. She felt his tongue go in and out, in and out of her hole, and when her squirming got more intense, he stopped, only to spread her open wider, exposing her swollen clit. He flicked at it with his tongue and sucked her juices, earning a cry of pleasure from her throat. 

This unbridled lovemaking was well worth the wait.

But he wasn’t the only one who gets to use his mouth. She brought him over to lay down in bed and positioned herself so she faced his feet. She took his whole length in her mouth, the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat while she brought her hips a little lower to his face so he could keep doing his part. He complied but not before moaning helplessly at the magic she was working.

She gagged and groaned and used her hands and tongue. She saw the faceless lovers whom she had used in a quick passing thought in her head. She’s had plenty of practice to be able to worship him with her mouth like this.

When she finally decided she wanted him in, she made it a point that there was no place for muffled cries this time. He shoved himself in and thrusted in full force. She moaned and cried and pulled away in time before he reached his peak, only to slide him back in, repositioning herself so she could do it all over. She had longed to feel him fill her up again, his cock moving back and forth as she tightened around him, teasing him further. 

She had her release, and he begged for her to allow him his. She did, but only when she was at an angle to see his face when he came, eyebrows raised and drawn together, pleading, mouth open, saying her name. His seed felt hot inside of her, spilling out and running down her thighs as she slid him out.

She lay awake in the aftermath. The moonlight wrapped around his sleeping form laying next to her. His soft breaths tickled and felt cool on her damp skin. She studied his beautiful visage, something she didn’t have the luxury of doing after their sloppy encounter in the motel room. 

The arch of his nose, the curve of his full lips, his long eyelashes. The way he slept on his belly. And how he never once stirred even as she traced the moles on his cheek, down to the big one on his neck, then to his back, because he’s always been a deep sleeper. 

He’ll keep swathing himself in infinite layers of secrecy, disillusionment and disconnect. She’s just gonna have to keep peeling them off one by one, stripping him to vulnerability, to see if he’s still there underneath it all.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a line from the Placebo song, “The Crawl”, which greatly influenced the tone and message of this entire work. It’s a great song, give it a listen <3


End file.
